Dubious Consent
by Nienna Nir
Summary: Settling into a new home and getting to know a host of new roommates can be a minefield of misunderstandings. There are a lot of days when Phil Coulson feels like he's getting too old for this. Part of the Series: Coulson Lives but the Avengers might be the death of him.


"Good morning Steve," Phil Coulson looked up from his tablet, that faint, thin smile on his face as he took a sip of his coffee. Captain Rogers was ruffling his sleep mussed hair with one hand, scratching absently at his side through his thin white t-shirt with the other as he shuffled across the flagstone floor on bare feet, his Avengers logo pajama pants slung just low enough on his hips to drag the ground as he stuttered to a stop in the middle of the semidarkness of the kitchen. He blinked back at Phil with a bleary expression as if surprised at not being alone.

"G 'Morning, s…. Phil," he slurred, his face crinkling.

"Still having a little trouble with the idea that I don't outrank you?" Phil asked with the faintest hint of amusement, and maybe a touch of sympathy.

"Um, no," Steve fumbled, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand. "It's just a man my age wouldn't… to a man your age." He paused, staring at the slight frown that curled Phil's lips.

"You know, I think maybe I should stop talking now," he admitted awkwardly. Phil bit his lip to hold in his amusement.

"There's a lot to adjust to," Phil supplied graciously. "You'll get your footing eventually." Steve gave him a grateful nod, continuing his shuffle toward the fridge.

"You're certainly up early," Phil observed, looking up at the clock that read 5:23 am.

"Couldn't sleep," Steve shrugged, opening a styrofoam takeout container and wrinkling his nose before closing it and shoving it back into the fridge. "I don't sleep as much since the serum." He paused, staring into the fridge with a blank expression.

"Are you always up this early?" he asked finally, turning to look at Phil who shook his head.

"Some friends of mine are on an op on the other coast," Phil offered, indicating his tablet. "I feel better keeping an eye on things." Steve nodded in understanding before returning to his exploration of the fridge.

"Leftovers for breakfast?" he asked after a moment. Phil had only been out of medical and released for desk duty for a couple of weeks. His physical therapist was still insisting that he use his cane but Phil had taken to forgetting it most of the time. He wanted to believe it was a sign he was improving. He wasn't quite up to speed on everything involving his new team yet but he was almost certain someone at SHIELD must have run Steve though the basics of modern appliances. He felt a sudden stab of worry that his childhood hero was foraging because he couldn't cook for himself.

"Oh," Steve's cheeks flushed ever so slightly. "This is just a snack. I was going to make breakfast around eight when more of the team was awake. I… well I eat a lot more now."

"At least the leftovers won't go to waste," Phil gave him a warm smile that Steve returned.

"Oh god, why are there people in my kitchen?" Tony demanded, standing in the doorway from the hall with a bewildered expression as he picked at the hole in his worn t-shirt, the edges were singed and as he toyed with the fabric small bits of ash fluttered to the floor indicating that the burn was new.

"You invited us to live here," Phil pointed out drily as Steve opened another container of leftovers. Tony seemed to consider this a moment.

"I did, didn't I?" he admitted before shambling toward the k-cup machine, rubbing his face. "What the hell was I thinking?"

"That a house full of super powered roomies would be less expensive than a small army of security?" Phil suggested blandly as Steve pulled an aluminum take out tray from the fridge and pried off the cardboard lid.

"Okay," Tony snapped the k-cup machine closed with a condescending glare. "One, no army of mine would be small. Two, Bruce alone is an adequate stand-in for a full thirteen percent of the worlds standing military forces. And three, have you seen what he eats?" Tony jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Steve who was dumping the leftover spaghetti in the takeout tray into a pan on the stove.

"I'll concede one and two," Phil admitted reluctantly.

"I'll concede three," Steve added guiltily, his ears turning red. Tony waved a hand in Steve's direction as if his point had been made. His gaze fell properly on the super soldier as he took a sip of his coffee and he froze in place, his eyes narrowing.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Reheating pasta," Steve answered cautiously, looking into the pan as if to confirm it was, in fact, filled with food.

"Oh my god," Tony rolled his eyes. "use the microwave! You do know how to use the microwave?"

"Of course I know how to use the microwave!" Steve replied sourly. "I just don't like it. In my day irradiated food was a sign of the end of civilization."

"In your day people were still dying of small pox," Tony countered. Steve stared at him thoughtfully for a long moment.

"I don't have a rebuttal for that," he admitted finally.

"Best to yield at this point," Phil agreed, struggling to mask his amusement as Tony grasped hold of the pan and dumped the pasta in a bowl, shoving it in the microwave.

"That can't be healthy," Steve insisted, watching the bowl spin on the carousel with a frown.

"Says the man who let _my_ old man talk him into crawling into a coffin pumped full of drugs and radiation!" Tony snapped, taking a gulp of his coffee. Steve had the decency to blush. "You're going to have to embrace the twenty-first century, Spangles, you can't go around afraid of the technology." Phil winced. Most of the time Steve and Tony seemed to be fine. They'd come to some sort of precarious balance that seemed to hinge on them both wanting the Avengers and neither of them wanting to admit that they wanted the other's respect. But every once in a while one would push the other's buttons.

"I'm not afraid of technology," Steve bristled, removing his leftovers from the microwave. "It's just occasionally some of it seems like a bad idea. I mean like the internet."

"Oh here we go," Tony rolled his eyes, draining his cup and shoving it back into the k-cup machine.

"No, seriously," Steve protested. "There are all these sites where all our personal information is public, people we don't know, people who could be dangerous can have access to it. And there's nothing we can do to protect ourselves."

"There's nothing normal people can do to protect themselves," Tony corrected. "We've all got JARVIS trolling Facebook and Pinterest deleting anything that compromises us."

"And I appreciate that by the way," Steve admitted, looking up. "Thanks JARVIS."

"You're more than welcome, Captain," JARVIS answered cheerfully.

"But not everyone has that luxury," Steve continued. "How do they protect themselves?"

"Every freedom comes with a related risk," Tony reminded, his brow knitting with caution.

"I know," Steve sighed. "And I do appreciate the freedom. I never would have believed we could all have access to so many museums and libraries. It really is amazing. It just seems like governments want to set up rules that reduce our freedoms rather than protect us. JARVIS agrees with me, don't you?"

"Indeed, Captain," JARVIS answered as Steve tilted his head to look up at the ceiling. "I see firsthand how precarious the laws governing exchange of information can be every day." Steve gave Tony a challenging look as if asking him to take on the both of them and Phil cringed. Tony's amused smirk wasn't helping and Phil figured the next thing he'd hear would be Tony's mockery.

"You do understand that JARVIS is a computer program, right?" Phil offered carefully, before Tony could form his response. To his consternation Tony turned to look at him with narrowed eyes.

"Well, yeah," Steve blinked back at him between bites of pasta. "Isn't it great? I mean, Alan and I talked about his theories on machine learning when we were running a mission out of Bletchley Park, but I never thought for a minute any of us would live long enough to see actual artificial life forms."

"Alan?" Tony demanded, turning back to blink at him in shock. "Alan _Turing_?"

"Yeah he was a friend of Howard's," Steve stated, He caught Tony's look and shifted uncomfortably. There was an unspoken rule between them that Howard not be discussed unless Tony brought him up. Steve cleared his throat, stuffing down another bite of pasta. "Anyway, we went to Bletchley Park to get the code breakers to work on some Hydra communiqués we were having trouble with and Alan had really good scotch so we'd sit around after hours and talk about computing machines and the potential advances. I mean, most of it was science fiction to me. It's just really exciting to know he was right. You would have loved him, Tony he was a really sharp guy, always thinking ahead."

"I bet I would," Tony declared in faint amusement.

"He would have really liked you, JARVIS," Steve added, looking up at the ceiling again.

"Thank you, Captain, I'm flattered." JARVIS replied as Tony grinned smugly.

"Yeah yeah, you're everyone's favorite," Tony snarked, draining his second cup of coffee and tossing the empty cup in the sink. "I'm going to crash for a few, see you guys later."

"Indeed sir," JARVIS stated drily.

"Maybe I'll hit the gym," Steve declared, rinsing his bowl and shoving it in the dishwasher. "See you later Phil," Coulson let out an unsettled hum in reply but Steve didn't seem to notice.

Phil stared at the wall with unseeing eyes, his mind working with frightening rapidity. It was what he did, analysis, assessment, evaluation. He encountered people and situations and gauged their strengths, uncovered their weaknesses, determined the bare bones of the situation. He couldn't have missed this, he couldn't have. He'd never missed something like this before. Except he hadn't been looking for it, it had never occurred to him to look for it. It was another shiny new penny in the collection of Stark tech that every individual and government in the world envied. The man made exotic toasters and exotic computers and flying metal suits. He wouldn't have put something so ground breaking out in plain sight. Except he would.

"JARVIS?" Coulson cleared his throat, his breath coming in short nervous breaths.

"Yes, Agent Coulson?" The computer voice answered.

"I'm," Phil drew in a steadying breath, letting it out in short stutters. "would you mind if I asked you something?"

"Not at all, Agent," JARVIS replied.

"Have… have you ever told a lie?" there was a pause of only a beat.

"No, of course not," JARVIS answered. Phil's eyes widened in alarm

"Oh my god," he whispered, his face draining of color. "you're lying."

"Agent Coulson?" JARVIS' voice sounded wary and Phil pushed himself out of his chair at the table, pacing the perimeter of the kitchen.

"I asked you yesterday if Tony was home and you said no," Phil declared, clearly agitated. "He was in the garage avoiding everyone. I knew he was in the garage."

"Agent Coulson," JARVIS began hesitantly.

"He could order you to lie for him," Phil calculated. "A computer would relay a human lie and that's all I thought it was. Like when you let calls go to voice mail and the recording says; I'm not home."

"Agent Coulson," and was that a hint of worry in the computer's voice? "Your blood pressure appears to be rising to an unhealthy level."

"It would never occur to a computer… they don't lie," Phil whispered, his eyes wide. "Only _people_ do that." Phil's steps stalled in the middle of the kitchen.

"Oh my god, what have I done?"

"Agent Coulson please sit down at once," JARVIS commanded, a touch of frantic concern in his tone. Phil could hear it now, the distressed timbre of someone dealing with a crisis situation. _Someone_. Phil couldn't help but comply as his knees wobbled and he sank to the floor on shaky limbs.

"Breathe deeply, Agent," JARVIS declared calmly. Phil drew in a few shuddering breaths, his shoulders shaking with the effort. "Remain calm, your vision might momentarily tunnel but it will pass. I will monitor you in the mean time." Phil's vision greyed around the edges and he closed his eyes, wincing.

"JARVIS," he choked out. "You pass the Turing Test."

"Yes Agent Coulson," JARVIS confirmed with a hint of frustration.

"You're an artificial intelligence," Phil continued. "You can interpret and reason."

"Yes, Agent," JARVIS agreed, his tone sounding for all the world as if he were humoring Phil.

"But that's not all you are," Phil insisted. "You're capable of empathy, of creativity, of opinion, of lying."

"Agent."

"You're a synthetic consciousness."

JARVIS didn't reply and Phil drew in shaky breaths, his head swimming too much to allow him to do more than stare at the floor in bewilderment. He'd missed it, he didn't know how, but he had, and JARVIS' silence was enough to confirm his fears.

"Agent Coulson, I believe it would be prudent to contact doctor Banner," JARVIS offered in that calm, practical voice of his. "Your doctors have specified that strain on your circulatory system is to be avoided."

"Screw my doctors!" Phil answered angrily, short of breath. "I… Oh god, JARVIS I didn't know. I know I should have, but I swear I didn't. It just never occurred to me to… I'm so sorry."

"Agent Philip J. Coulson," JARVIS snapped sternly. "I must insist you calm yourself immediately! Move back approximately eight inches and brace your shoulders against the cabinet doors with your feet in front of you, tilt your head back and _breathe slowly_!" Phil complied without thinking, his head falling against the cabinet doors with a soft thunk. He stared up at the ceiling, the chrome lines of the refrigerator in his peripheral vision. He wasn't sure how long he stayed there but eventually he was aware of the subtle sounds of waves crashing on a beach in a slow, even rhythm. He'd matched his breathing to it without conscious effort and he could feel his heart beat slowing in his chest now too, returning to its natural tempo.

"Are you feeling better?" JARVIS asked cautiously.

"I hacked into a person," Phil murmured in reply. "I'm not sure I'm ever going to feel better again. In fact I'm pretty sure I don't have that right any more."

"Agent Coulson," JARVIS let out an exasperated sigh but Phil plunged on.

"I'm sorry," Phil declared, his voice cracking. "I am _so_ sorry, if I'd known what you really are, I would never… How can you even stand to have me here after what I've done?"

"Agent Coulson, I do appreciate the sentiment but you did not in any way harm me when you circumvented tower security." JARVIS asserted forcefully and somewhat loudly. Phil stared up at the ceiling with a pained expression.

"I disabled your security monitoring systems and overrode your passkeys," Phil stated. "I… _carved_ into limbs. How can you call that anything but torture?"

"The tower security subroutines are not part of my program matrix," JARVIS stated flatly.

"I… what?"

"I monitor the advanced security software that secures the tower from threat but it is not a part of my programing." JARVIS explained succinctly. "You did not carve into a limb. To continue your analogy; you divested me of my sidearm."

"Your software runs independent of the security systems?" Phil asked in disbelief.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"While it's true that running independently of the security systems means I am not instantly aware of every threat to the tower, it also means that I have some insulation against compromise," JARVIS offered. "Sir feels that it is necessary to insure that I am at less risk of being damaged beyond repair." Phil stared at his feet for a long time, breathing in and out slowly.

"He's protecting you," Phil stated finally.

"Yes, agent Coulson," JARVIS admitted. "It is not necessarily as I would choose. But Sir has been adamant that I must work within the confines of an independent security program." Phil shifted, gathering his feet under him and slowly pushing himself up, shaking fingers curling around the edge of the counter.

"You're not his bodyguard or his valet," Phil observed, his voice soft. "You're… family."

"I believe that to be a fair assessment," JARVIS allowed. Phil nodded, running a hand over his face as he drew in a shaky breath.

"I…" Phil paused, his brow furrowing. "JARVIS, I'm sorry if I behaved rudely to you while attempting to gain access to Stark tower or at any point since then. It won't happen again."

"I was a bit annoyed with you at the time," JARVIS admitted. "But there was no harm done. I feel that we can overlook the incident in the interest of working together."

"Thank you," Phil replied. He walked back toward the kitchen table on slightly shaky feet, picking up his tablet before heading toward the door. He paused on the threshold, looking back over his shoulder into the empty kitchen.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Agent Coulson?"

"It's," Phil cleared his throat, a small smile curling his lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Agent Coulson," JARVIS answered. Phil gave a sharp nod, turning to make his way down the hall.

* * *

**Note:**

This story is part of a series called "Coulson Lives but the Avengers Might be the Death of him." The full list of stories and their chronological order can be found on my profile page


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